A child, she sits at the piano,
exploring with modest fingers,
the anxious keys.
One day she'll play in church
but for now she'll play in the sea
and stick her tongue out in the rain.
A child watches the modest rain
kiss the window beside her piano.
An anxious sea
stirs in her fingers.
She falls asleep in church
and plays in the wrong key.
"Practice makes perfect, precision is key."
A child walks home in the rain,
and passes the church.
Her teacher has an old piano
that leaves dust on her fingers.
She washes them in the sea.
A girl is drowning in the sea
bare; like a single ivory key
He plays her with his fingers.
She loves him like the rain.
Her mother sold her piano,
when she stopped singing in church.
"I feel like an empty church;
a haunted sea;
a dusty piano
with no keys."
she says softly, to the rain
when he lets go of her fingers.
Reaching out these fingers
in an abandoned church,
the echoing rain
washes the roof in a sea
of chiming keys,
from an old piano.
A girl dips her fingers into the sea,
singing church hymns, out of key.
God plays the rain like a piano.